with storyette by Prim
Female Posture Training with Madame Van Den Hurtz 
Harold's wife delivered him to reception in the Morocco Red Hotel, and left him in the hands of assistant Zara. She started stripping him."Gettoff. What're ya doing?" he blustered, trying to hold onto the waist of his pants. "You're gonna be starkers, mate," said the girl, and his pants parted with a long tear. Harold yelped with horror. His wife would slay him for daring to damage his trousers. His worries were scattered and redoubled at the same time as Madame Van Den Hurtz appeared. "You!" she said. "Stand still." She was big and heavy, in an open-bosomed gown of black satin, and a foot taller than Harold. He did as he was told as she ripped his shirt from his shoulders, losing all the buttons, until he stood naked at reception, cringing like a freshly shorn sheep. "I can see you've been feminized," she said, her lips bulbously red and shiny. "I'll make use of those well-developed breasts." Harold hung his head. "My name is really H-Henrietta." He went on in case he was found out: "At home I have to wear Bavarian blouses and pinafore dresses with a stiffened corsage." Madame's lips rippled with contempt and she grabbed the top of his ear. She dragged him as far as her sitting room, where he was put into a silk-covered corselet and stockings with ultra heels. "I want to see your breasts breathing like a girl," she snapped, and his arms were wrenched back as if she wanted to split his chest in two. His upper arms felt the pinch of wooden edges, clamped together in an elbow bracket that locked on the left side. Harold bowed forward in shame at his weak submission. This was not Madame Van Den Hurtz' idea, so she seized his hair and pulled a strap across his throat, fastening his head to look straight ahead where the wall met the ceiling. The clink of manacles joined the squeeze of his wrists, and his hands were held in irons. "I thought so," she said with a snort. "Weak cocks respond to helplessness - I see it's what you like, probably because you know you can be taken anywhere in this condition - for women to look you over and sneer. Her fingers fastened round his erection and she led him like that back to hotel reception, where two tall blondes were signing in. "Look at the puppy. Helpless," said one of them. "Will he be available to residents?" "That's what he's here for," Madame assured her. "Put us down for him tonight then, from 12, Room 304." Zara had two satinized rubber mackintoshes, one for Madame and one for herself. They put them on in torrents of sliding rubber, and pulled the wretched Harold between them to the street door. Moments later they were dragging him through the mall with a leather leash gripping his erection. That way he remained upright and displayed his breasts. And mistress Zara was adept with her martinet, whipping his buttocks every few steps to the hilarity of all viewers. BACK
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